


We All Want (to Change the World)

by opalish



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Background Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, Background Helen Blackthorn/Aline Penhallow, Background Simon Lewis/Isabelle Lightwood, F/F, Gen, Jace Wayland is a Lightwood, M/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 17:11:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19010170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalish/pseuds/opalish
Summary: It starts with Simon, which explains why the entire process is such an unrelenting headache.or, Alec's startlingly quick journey from Head of the New York Institute to Inquisitor.





	We All Want (to Change the World)

**Author's Note:**

> yeahhh enjoy some half-meta half-headcanon word-vomit

It starts with Simon, which explains why the entire process is such an unrelenting _headache._

The thing is, there’s not really any procedure in place for what Simon did for them—going undercover in a Clave prison to expose a traitor and a dangerous plot. The Clave hires warlocks for wards, occasionally takes on Downworld consultants, and Alec and his siblings have made a habit of working with certain Downworlders, but there’ve always been other ways to spin that. Leaders doing their duty by cooperating with Alec’s people, mostly, or Cabinet members offering a little extra help.

What they did with Simon isn’t like that. He might be a daylighter, but he’s not exactly a leader of the New York vampires, and he wasn’t helping one of them track down a rogue Shadowhunter or a Downworlder criminal. He’d been officially engaged by the New York Institute to actively help in an open investigation into possible Clave corruption.

Alec’s half-tempted to say fuck it and cut him a check for consulting, but to be honest, Simon deserves a little better than that. Maybe it’s Clary on his mind—punished for saving Magnus and then the world, and Alec has his opinions on _that—_ or maybe it’s the way Simon’s clearly head-over-heels for Isabelle. Maybe it’s how Simon’s been there for Jace, in the aftermath of Clary’s exile. Or maybe Alec’s just grateful the whole mission didn’t entirely blow up in their faces in the first place.

He brings it up with Isabelle at dinner. She chews thoughtfully on a fry, not quite able to hide a smile at the fact that he’s trying to do something nice for her boyfriend (which, please, is clearly not the case; Alec’s simply trying to be fair). “You know, that never really occurred to me,” she says, mouth still full of food, and Alec’s been spending too much time with Magnus because he can’t help giving her a slightly judgmental look. She ignores it blithely, swallows, and adds, “I mean, we ask Downworlders for help all the time, these days. We’ve all kind of fallen into it, but what have we given them in return? I know some of the warlocks bill us, but I’m pretty sure we’ve consulted Catarina a few times and she hasn’t asked for a thing.”

“But we have consultant fees,” Jace points out, taking an interest, and Alec’s still a little blown away by how he’s taking the Clary thing. Even Alec rankles at the injustice of it all and kind of misses her and her headstrong determination to stab everything, but Jace… Jace is trying so hard to be better. To be the man she loved, to be _worthy_ of that love.

“Yeah, but not exactly a nuanced system,” Alec says, brow furrowing. “Warlocks bill us when we hire them to do some sort of magic, and there’s procedure for consulting Downworlders as witnesses or informants, but we’ve gone beyond that. And there’s no real groundwork in place for what we’re doing.”

“It’s a shame we can’t just hire them,” Jace says with a sigh. “Like, assistants or something. With how many Shadowhunters have died this year...” He pauses, alarmed. “Guys, why are you looking at me like that? I know it’s not a real--”

“Deputies,” Izzy cuts him off, staring at Alec with wide eyes. “I know the Clave will never approve it, not yet--”

Maybe it’s because he’s actually pissed about Clary. Maybe it’s because Simon’s shown more courage than half the Shadowhunters Alec knows. Maybe it’s because the Clave is in crisis, the roster of active Shadowhunters at a worrying new low after everything that's happened, and he thinks this could help. Maybe it’s just that he’s starting to realize that he doesn’t need to compromise all the time, that sometimes there’s no better place to start than with the impossible.

Maybe it’s because he’s pretty sure this’ll make Magnus smile.

“They don’t need to approve it,” he says, starting to grin. “I do. They just need to see the results.”

Jace and Izzy stare at him.

“Wait, you’re going with my dumb idea?” Jace demands.

“Alec, you—are you seriously…?”

“One, it’s not a dumb idea. Two, I’m seriously. And I want a list, from each of you. Any Downworlder you two can think of who’d be willing to work side by side with a Shadowhunter.”

Izzy actually gapes. Jace laughs out loud, delighted.

Alec can’t quite believe he’s doing this, really doing this, but it’s _brilliant._ It’s a step towards equality, and a way to reinforce the Clave’s depleted forces at the same time.

If they pull this off--

Well, timing’s everything. They’re living in a world Magnus Bane saved, right before Alec married him in a nephilim ceremony.  They're living in a world where entire Institutes have been wiped out in the space of a day, where their last Consul proved to be a traitor, where demons attacked Alicante itself.  The Clave won’t be happy, but the Clave also can’t afford to move against him just yet. Not so soon after members of the New York Institute helped to kill Valentine and Jonathan and Lilith, only to follow that up by destroying Edom once and for all.

“Does it ever bother you,” Jace asks Izzy, still wearing a shit-eating grin, “that it turns out Alec’s been the real wild child all along?”

“I am not _wild,_ ” Alec says, annoyed.

“God, so much,” Izzy tells Jace, ignoring him completely. “I can’t even rebel against authority anymore because he just supports my decisions.”

Given that she’s all but picked a fight with the Consul in front of him, that’s a filthy lie.

“Alec, my brother—my parabatai,” Jace says solemnly, reaching out and gripping Alec’s shoulder. “Clary would be proud.”

Alec's horrified, or at least he would be if he wasn’t quite so proud of Jace for how he’s handling everything. Treasuring Clary’s memory instead of raging against her loss. Hoping for something to change for the better, but not wasting the present because of it. Alec knows he wouldn’t be dealing half so well, and he’s got a better insight than anyone into how truly difficult this has been for Jace.

But he’s not about to call attention to that.

“On second thought,” he starts, and Jace and Izzy throw fries at him, perfectly in sync.

 

* * *

 

 

“Deputies?” Magnus repeats, eyebrows making a valiant attempt to hit his hairline. Lorenzo and Catarina both lean forward, astonished. Alec’s not entirely sure what they’re doing here—Catarina’s always welcome, obviously, but Lorenzo? Inviting him to their wedding after he helped rescue Magnus was one thing. Making him cocktails is another.

But Alec isn’t in the mood to dwell on past grievances, because Madzie’s in his lap, coloring what looks like a terrifying hellscape populated by burnt trees but is, in fact, she’s told him, a picture of all of them together.

He’s the tallest burnt tree, partially because Madzie’s a tiny burnt branch perched on his stick-figure shoulders. He’s gonna hang her masterpiece on the fridge as soon as she’s done, and Magnus is going to give him That Look, and God he loves being married.

“I’m not sure who’ll be interested,” he admits, because he’s worked one-on-one with New York’s leaders but none of them are exactly going to demote themselves to _deputy._ “But we need the numbers, and the Downworld needs a say in how we do things. It seems like an...opportunity.”

Catarina lets out a long, low whistle. “Well. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but are you sure? I can’t imagine you’ve made many friends with the Clave over the past year. Your position isn’t exactly unassailable.”

“I’m sure working with your replacement would be even more irritating than working with you,” Lorenzo offers. “But for my part, I wholeheartedly approve. There will need to be rules in place, of course. Regulations, to protect Downworlders from unfair disciplinary measures and peer prejudice.”

“Alec wouldn’t--”

“No, he’s right, Magnus,” Alec says, though it's pretty obvious Magnus already knows. He appreciates the show of faith, though. “If this catches on, if other Heads of Institutes see the opportunity here, we need to make sure we do everything we can to protect the deputies. And Catarina’s right—this could backfire on me. But the timing’s right. The circumstances call for it. This might be the best shot we have at making a permanent change to the way things are done.”

Magnus gazes at him softly, looking so proud Alec has to fight down a blush.

“Good God, you’re a visionary,” Lorenzo says, disgusted. “Magnus, I thought you had taste.”

“He is not,” Magnus defends, and Alec honestly isn’t sure how to feel about it. “He’s a _pragmatist_. Two Clave birds, one revolutionary stone.”

Alec’s never thought of himself as a revolutionary or a visionary, and he’s not about to start now. “Look, it’s simple,” he says, ignoring Catarina’s snickering. “We have a couple of problems, and one potential solution to both of them. Partial solution, at least. I’m not going to ignore what I genuinely think is the best move for everyone just because some people might not like it.”

Magnus smiles at him like he’s said something adorable, which Alec doesn’t particularly get, but at least Lorenzo looks more pained than ever.

 

* * *

 

 

Meliorn, Alec’s fairly certain, signs on mostly to be a pain in the ass. He insists on working with Jace, and given that Jace no longer really has a partner in the field, Alec decides to go along with it. For now.

Jace doesn’t protest as much as Alec might’ve expected, anyway.

Meliorn also makes it clear he’s not there permanently. He’s willing to work with them to figure out the best way to structure the deputy program, but he’s mostly there to vet their intentions for the new Seelie Queen. He’s giving them a probationary period: impress him and the Queen gives the go-ahead for other Seelies, disappoint him and they’ll have no part of Alec’s plan.

They don’t impress him, given how often he tells them they’re messing up and insinuates that they’re clearly incapable of higher thought, but he stays on a little longer than they first agreed, and one day another Seelie shows up at their door, with full permission to work with them for so long as the Clave allows.

From the vampires...well, they have Simon. The Coven’s a mess, going through leaders even faster than the New York Institute, and no one can sign on if they can’t figure out whose approval to get. Until a lone vampire from _Colorado_ shows up and asks to be a part of the program. Alec vets her thoroughly, of course, but she’s the real deal. And then Lily Chen comes to power, and she turns out to be the real deal, as well. Hesitant to put any faith in him, but forward-thinking enough to give the Institute a chance.

The werewolves are more difficult. The pack’s been gutted, and Maia’s not particularly interested in hearing anything he or Luke have to say. Not out of stubborn defiance, but because she’s already got more than enough on her plate. “If anyone wants to give it a try, they’re welcome,” she says with a shrug. “I’ll be more than happy to take it up with you if you get them killed because they’re werewolves and your people don't give a shit, but otherwise? It’s your problem.”

That’s fair enough, Alec supposes.

Then Bat shows up. Not to actually run missions or anything, he’s quick to make that clear—but because he thinks he might get something out of their training program. Alec shrugs and allows it, because it’s not like he’s in the position to turn anyone away, not so long as they’re there in good faith.

Bat doesn’t stick around beyond training, but a couple of Maia’s recruits show up after, saying he told them he thought it was worthwhile.

It’s...trouble. All of it is. Warlocks and Seelies have their feuds and their long histories, and vampires and werewolves...well. Even the mundanes always seem to get that part right. Stick them all in an Institute, surrounded by Shadowhunters, and it’s a miracle no one dies.

He has to come down hard on some of his people—no, his Shadowhunters. But he also has to be stern with the new recruits—because he’s not taking sides. If someone fucks up, that’s on them, and it’s on him. Doesn’t matter who. The only way this works is if he’s upfront with everyone about what he expects and what the rules are, and then he sticks to that at all times.

The Clave isn’t impressed, obviously. Mom doesn’t try to talk him out of it, but she’s openly worried that he’s risking his position for a plan doomed to fail. Dad looks increasingly tense whenever they talk.

Max tells him he’s already started asking around the Los Angeles Downworld to see if anyone’s interested in signing on with them. “We’ve got a whole Institute to rebuild,” his little brother says with a shrug. “I can tell Clave resources are stretched pretty thin, even if Dad thinks I don’t know. So we might as well start as we mean to go on.”

“We?” Izzy repeats, looking so proud of their little brother that Alec thinks she finally knows how he feels whenever he looks at her.

“Dad’ll come around,” Max says, utterly sure of himself in a way none of them had ever truly been as children. “It’s a logical step, and times are changing. He doesn’t want this to backfire on you, and sooner or later he’ll figure out the best way to help is to, you know, _help_.”

The New Orleans Institute is actually the first to contact Alec about implementing their own program. Then Tokyo. Then Quebec, Mumbai, Lagos. Los Angeles isn’t even in the first ten.

But it’s within the first twenty.

Because somehow, somehow it works. Downworlders working for—working _with—_ the Institute. With Institutes all over the globe.

It even gets a bit easier as it goes, for Alec, because once he starts seeing the deputies as his people, the way he always has with his Shadowhunters, it’s like a new fire lights inside him. He sees it in Izzy, too, and in Jace. They all have Downworlder family, but that’s a far cry from having Downworlder coworkers. Peers, working at the same job, in the same building.

Not all of his Shadowhunters adapt, but a lot do. A lot start thinking a little more carefully about how they talk to the vampire who saved their life, the Seelie who caught a security breach, the werewolf who talked down a terrified possession victim, and maybe most importantly, the warlock who regularly conjures snacks during stake-outs.

And the Clave takes note. It takes months, but the Clave starts to see what Alec’s seen from the moment Jace gave them the idea: Shadowhunters don’t have to fight alone. There’s no reason, no point to it, if others are willing to help. They don’t have to marry young, breed quick, and die ugly. Downworlders can have a say in how they’re treated, an equal say, and there’s nothing lost by it but what _should’ve_ been lost long ago.

Okay, maybe the Clave doesn’t see it quite how Alec does. But they see results. They see fewer deaths, fewer casualties, than any of them are used to--and in the wake of multiple massacres, that counts for a hell of a lot.  They see less tension in the cities implementing the New York Institute’s system. They see Institutes filled with dedicated workers instead of being half-manned, run by exhausted skeleton crews.

They don’t see change, not like the Institutes involved are beginning to, but they see _something_ worth exploring.

And Alec, Alec’s fully prepared to take an inch and demand a mile.

 

* * *

 

 

It takes time, but not nearly as much as Alec anticipated. He’s not sure whether the Clave’s just decided it’s easier not to argue with Lightwoods or if people are starting to work on the way they think about the world, but Alicante opens its borders to Downworlders.

People are wary, rightfully so.  But slowly, slowly, Downworlders start to move in. Warlocks come to work on setting up new protections, after Jonathan’s rampage, and they stay in Alicante for the duration. A few vampires visit, just to tour the city. A pack of werewolves take the leap and move in permanently. Seelies show up overnight, and flowers bloom in Alicante as they’ve never done before.

It’s a trickle at first, but a month after the fact, there’s actually a growing population of permanent residents. With Helen Blackthorn establishing firm policies for all Alicante’s citizens to abide by, now that they’re no longer a nephilim-only city.

Two months before their first anniversary, Magnus is contacted by the Spiral Labyrinth—Alicante has enough warlocks, now, to warrant a High Warlock. And somehow, the Clave has been argued into allowing it.

“High Warlock of Alicante,” Magnus repeats to Alec, dazed. He looks...God, he looks thrilled. Awed and disbelieving and ready to get down to work, right then and there.

“That’s incredible,” Alec says, and his throat feels tight, eyes stinging just a bit.

Magnus blinks, studying him closely. “But we have our life here,” he says firmly, with a smile that looks mostly genuine. “I told them I needed to discuss it with my husband—”

“No, no,” Alec says hastily, startled. “Magnus, you can’t—you deserve this. And you saved Alicante less than a year ago; no other warlock is going to have that leverage with the Clave.”

“You seemed upset,” Magnus says slowly, and Alec can tell he wants to be persuaded. Which is good, since Alec wants to persuade him.

“Upset? Magnus, I’m proud as hell. My husband’s going to be the first High Warlock of Alicante. The rest—we’ll work the rest out.”

Magnus eyes him, and Alec knows why. He’s always pushed for Magnus to share his insecurities, his fears, but doubled down on his own. Which is part of what led him to making that deal with Asmodeus. He’d explained to Magnus what he’d been thinking, a few days after their wedding. Explained that he knew Magnus had loved and lost and survived it and eventually moved on, that he’d survive losing Alec the same way. That Magnus would recover from, well, _him_ , in a way he might never recover from losing his magic.

And Magnus had looked so heartbroken that Alec had scrambled to apologize, to explain, but every word only seemed to hurt Magnus deeper, until Alec fell silent and Magnus held him and told him--

But Alec’s not lying, not hiding anything, and he meets Magnus’ searching gaze and hopes he can see it all—the pride, the confidence, the _awe._

“Does this mean it’s your turn to be the trophy husband?” Magnus asks, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Alec really has no choice but to kiss him.

 

* * *

 

 

Not everything goes smoothly, but things do move forward. The deputy system isn’t a Clave mandate yet, but more and more Institutes are giving it a try, and the ones who refuse are showing the slowest growth, the least improvement. Not every Institute that tries the deputy system out does it well, or makes it last, either. Sometimes the prejudices are too deeply ingrained; sometimes there aren’t enough Downworlders willing to put their trust in Shadowhunters.

But the major Institutes have almost all converted, and most of them are serious in their attempts to make it work. Alec barely gets to see his own Institute, some days, he’s so busy trying to advise other Heads around the world.

Every Institute has a different feel, he finds. The Los Angeles deputies are a serious bunch, strictly professional, which suits Dad well enough but bores Max to tears. “Though at least they make more sense than Izzy’s _boyfriend_ ,” Max adds with a scoff.

Magnus portals home every night, without fail. Alec frets about the extra strain, and Magnus just watches him fondly, smiling like Alec’s doing something wonderful when he’s really just worrying about his husband overdoing it. Because he knows Magnus, knows he’s putting one hundred and ten percent of everything he has, everything he is, into his job. Alicante might have significantly fewer warlocks than New York, but there’s more to Magnus’ role than the typical High Warlock job description. He’s also actively working as an adviser to the Clave, a refuge to all of Alicante’s Downworlders, and apparently some kind of youth counselor to nephilim kids and teens in crisis.

Which leads to some awkward and painful discussions, as Magnus gets a better picture of what Alec’s childhood must’ve looked like, but Alec supposes that’s a small price to pay for how _fulfilled_ Magnus seems, now. Furious and uncertain, sometimes, stressed and pessimistic, but underlying all of that—Magnus is doing good in the world and he knows it.

Besides, working closely with a dozen or so Downworlders has given him a slightly better idea of things Magnus has had to deal with for centuries _._   Everything from degrading names and disgusted looks to being hunted for his eyes.  They talk about that, too, in bits and pieces, Magnus sometimes dismissing it all as a part of the past, sometimes admitting to nightmares, to moments of shame and anger and a creeping, numbing exhaustion.  He's been hated for so long, by so many people--for the way he was conceived, for the color of his skin, for his cat eyes, for his powers, for his sexuality, for the way he dresses, the way he _moves_.  And somehow, he still finds the will to smile, to love, to care.  Every day, Alec wakes up with a slightly better idea of how singular his husband truly is, how lucky Alec is to even know him.

As for himself, Alec expects—well, he’s stopped fearing Jia’s going to find a reason to take his runes. She hasn’t exactly forgiven him, but she’s also not one to waste time on grudges when she has better things to be doing. His Institute is running smoothly, he’s helping other Institutes do the same, and that much is undeniable. So he thinks his position is relatively safe, even if he does have a habit of going just a little bit rogue sometimes.  Simon's words, not his.

He doesn’t expect the call to Idris that ends in Jia Penhallow informing him that he’s been selected as the new Inquisitor, if he is willing.

It’s been a little less than a year since he got married, and he’d half expected to lose the Institute for the way his wedding doubled as a pretty obvious statement to the Clave. And Inquisitors—Inquisitors aren’t in their twenties. They just...aren’t. They aren’t openly gay or married to Downworlders, either. Yes, the Council’s lost a lot of people to all the carnage and chaos in the last year and a half, but still—

“How?” he asks, while Jia purses her lips and Aline grins and Helen tilts her head, conceding silently that it’s all pretty strange.

“You’ve been doing half the job already, while running your own Institute,” Helen says simply. “You’ve visited multiple other Institutes, and in most cases we’ve seen a marked improvement in them afterwards. You tend to rub people the wrong way, but they still respect you in spite of it. And as some people have pointed out, the Clave needs to start taking Downworld opinion into consideration.”

Alec stares.

“What she’s saying, Alec,” Aline says teasingly, “is that times are changing, partially because you’re changing them.”

“I’ve had help,” Alec says slowly, still not convinced this isn’t some bizarre prank. Maybe that’s Jace glamoured as Jia. Stranger things have happened.

“And that’s a part of why the Council decided on you,” Jia, of all people, takes over. “You don’t make friends easily, Alec, but you do make allies. And right now, that’s what the Clave needs.” She looks physically pained to say the words, but Alec doesn’t feel the slightest urge to judge her for it, not when the Clave itself is actually acknowledging that they need change.

“There’s a gay movement happening right here in Idris, you know,” Aline says, and Jia’s face looks even more pinched, but she nods slightly to her daughter. “Shadowhunters around the world are coming out—as queer, yes, but also men and women who’ve been in quiet, long-term relationships with Downworlders. They don’t want some stuffy taskmaster as Inquisitor, and frankly, neither does the Clave. We can’t afford to alienate the Downworlders right now, let alone our own people.”

“You’re the only unifying choice,” Helen says with a smile that says she knows exactly ridiculous how that sounds. “The Council recognizes that we’re on the brink of a cultural revolution, and there’s nothing to be gained by getting in the way of it. Not everyone agrees, of course, but quite frankly, they’re immaterial.”

Alec honestly cannot believe he’s hearing any of this.

But he’s not about to lose this chance. This...working in Alicante, living with Magnus, changing things for the better, both for nephilim and for Downworlders…

“I want to choose my own staff,” he says, mind racing.

“Done,” Jia agrees easily.

“I want to set up an Idris Downworld Cabinet,” he tests.

“Already in the works,” Helen says with a smirk. “Luke Garroway is a very persuasive man.”

He knows there are other things he should be asking, maybe even demanding. But for the life of him, all he can do is say yes.

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus greets him that night with a teasing, “Well hello, Inquisitor Bane.”

“You _knew_ ,” Alec realizes with a huff of laughter. “Of course you did.  High Warlock Lightwood.”

“Well,” Magnus says airily, “Shadowhunters aren’t nearly as subtle as they think. They practically polled the Spiral Labyrinth on whether they’d prefer Alexander Lightwood-Bane or some absolute tit named Cecil Greenbough as Inquisitor. Warlocks I haven’t seen in centuries called just to complain about the Clave bothering _them_ when I’m right here.”

“To be fair,” Alec allows, smiling, “You might be a little biased.”

“Of course I am,” Magnus said, eyes dancing. “I can’t lose my trophy husband, after all.  Greenbough for Inquisitor, by all means.”

“You’re not funny,” Alec tells him, biting back a grin.

“Darling, I’m _hilarious._ ”

 

* * *

 

 

Simon hugs him in congratulations and Alec _lets him_.  It's painful, but he manages.

Izzy gets it on film, because of course she does.

 

* * *

 

 

The morning after his and Magnus' first anniversary, Jace calls.

“I didn’t want to disturb you last night,” is the first thing he says, and Alec’s frankly astounded that Jace even remembered his anniversary when Jace once forgot their dad’s birthday. For three years. In a row.

“What’s up?” he asks, because he doesn’t recognize the edge in Jace’s voice—there’s too much emotion, some of it in conflict, all of it strong. He can feel it through their bond, too, now that he’s paying attention. Disbelief, joy, worry, fear…

“Clary. She saw me at her art show.”

Alec freezes. “You—were you--?”

“I should’ve been invisible, Alec. But she saw me, and she chased after me, and she—she knew my name. She knew that she knew me. Alec, I think—I think maybe the Angels decided to forgive her. Forgive us.”

He doesn’t mean to, but he automatically scoffs. “This is Clary, Jace, I think it’s a hell of a lot more likely she’s just refusing to stay put and do as she’s told. _Again_.”

Jace laughs, deeper and more real than he has for a long while, and this is…

Izzy might get her parabatai after all. He wants that for her, suddenly, wants Clary there to give her all that fierce devotion, that reckless protectiveness. He wants Clary to visit, to see their apartment, see her artwork on their walls.  He wants Magnus to call her Biscuit again, without those strained notes of loss and regret in his voice. He wants Jace to get to _be_ in love, not just be stuck in an endless game of _can we make this work when the world’s burning around us._

“Luke’s gonna freak,” Alec says wisely.

“Brother, you better believe I called him first.”

**Author's Note:**

> i will possibly edit or delete this after i get some sleep and reread it with a clearer head, but thanks for stickin' with me if you reached this point?
> 
> also madzie's hellscape portrait is in fact a picture of the magnus-rescue-party only with madzie along for the ride; alec titles it 'only edom' and gets it framed for his office.


End file.
